Requiem For A Princess
by MorphoFan
Summary: The sudden death of Carrie Fisher hits Star Wars fan Gary Fisher hard. As he tries to cope with his heartbreak, The Monarch and Dr. Mrs. The Monarch work together to comfort their beloved Henchman 21.


REQUIEM FOR A PRINCESS

Gary stood at the window, arms folded, looking out at the cold, gray December day. His face was stony and emotionless, but everything about his body language said he was miserable.

"How you doin' dude?" Monarch asked quietly as he entered the front room with two cups of coffee.

"I'm fine," he murmured, shifting slightly, running a hand over his face.

"Mm hm," Monarch mumbled, not sounding convinced.

"What's the big deal, right?" 21 muttered, "It's not like I knew her. I never even met her."

The older man nodded a little, and moved to stand at his henchman's shoulder. He looked out at the glum, Newark weather, and took a sip of his coffee. He handed the second mug to 21, and the younger man took it.

"Thanks," he said quietly. He took a sip, but then seemed to lose interest and set it on the small table at his side.

"I was a little kid when I saw A New Hope," Monarch said fondly, "One of the first times I can remember being happy after the plane crash."

21 just nodded, pressing his lips together to stop them quivering.

"The original Trilogy got me through some pretty terrible times in my life," the henchman said softly, "It's part of who I am today."

"Remember the first time you saw the Death Star blow up?" Monarch continued.

"Oh yeah," the younger man replied, smiling a little, sniffling, "A New Hope changed my life... there's was nothing like it. I still don't think I've ever felt more from a movie."

"She was only 21 when she made the first film," Monarch said, wistfully, "I thought she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. I wanted to marry her when I grew up."

"Who didn't?"

Monarch's phone rang, and he answered it.

"Hi honey-bunny," he said.

21 looked over at his boss. The older man glanced at him, and held up a finger, turned and left the room to stand in the hall.

"Yeah, we just heard," Monarch's voice said, carrying in from the corridor.

"...Oh, you know. He's definitely hurting."

The burly henchman hung his head as he realized his bosses were talking about him.

"I'll call you back in a few minutes," Monarch said as he came back into the room, "Love you."

He ended the call and tucked the phone back into his robe pocket, then came to stand beside his henchman once more.

"Sorry, that was Dr. My Wife," the older man said.

"She knows, then?" 21 asked.

Monarch nodded. "She just heard the news from Watch. Apparently poor Ward isn't taking it too well, either."

The two friends stood in companionable silence for a long few minutes.

"I can't believe she's gone," Gary finally said, wiping his nose discretely.

"This year has been awful," Monarch replied flatly.

"I know," Gary concurred, "It's like the Grim Reaper has specifically targeted my childhood or something."

"We lost George Michael on Christmas Day, and now Carrie," Monarch mumbled, shaking his head.

"Maybe she's hanging out with 24," Gary said.

"Lucky bastard," they both said simultaneously, and then laughed.

Monarch collected 21's coffee cup from the table and turned toward the kitchen.

"Well, I'm gonna put these in the kitchen and then do some research on the Guild website," Monarch replied, "Unless you need me?"

21 shook his head, his ponytail swinging slightly. He closed his eyes as he felt the tall man patting his back and then leaving the room.

The moment he was alone, 21 covered his face with his hands, and let the tears flow. His shoulders shook and his breath came in little hitches, but he managed to keep his despair quiet enough to avoid detection.

Or so he thought.

Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder, gently pulling him away from the window, turning him.

"C'mon," Monarch said softly, tugging at the younger man, "Come here."

He resisted at first, but then relented, and allowed Monarch to embrace him. The older man's long arms wound protectively around him, holding him tight.

Gary returned the embrace, pressed his face into Monarch's shoulder, and bawled like a baby. He wept for his childhood, for his memories, and for his lost princess.

"Shhh," Monarch breathed, reaching one hand up to rub the back of his neck, "Shhh...it's OK..."

21 tightened his arms around his boss's body, soaking the older man's robe with his tears. He lost track of how long he cried, but Monarch's arms never loosened their hold on him.

After a few minutes, he got control of himself and pulled back from his boss.

"Sorry," he said, embarrassed.

Monarch waved off his apology.

"What do you say," the red-haired man said, gently patting his bodyguard's cheek, "To a Star Wars marathon and a SHITLOAD of beers tonight?"

"I'd like that a lot," the younger man said, with a tearful chuckle.

"Good," Monarch murmured with a gentle smile. He leaned in and pressed a quick, brotherly kiss to 21's forehead. Then he pointed toward the stairs.

"Why don't you go upstairs and lie down for a little while?"

"Don't you need me?" 21 asked, scrubbing the tears from his face, "I'm on duty."

"Fuck duty," the older man said, "I'm officially giving you the day off for bereavement. Go and rest, that's an order."

"Yes sir," 21 said, grinning, giving a little salute. The big man crossed to the stairs and ascended.

Once he was gone, Monarch moved to his movie collection, dialing his phone.

"How is he doing?" Sheila asked as soon as she picked up.

"About like you would expect," Monarch replied, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder and he sorted through his Blu-Ray discs, looking for the Star Wars trilogy.

"Poor darling," she said, "I knew as soon as I heard the news that he'd need us. You taking good care of our boy?"

"Of course," the red-haired man replied, with a smile, "It feels good to be able to look after him for a change, instead of vice versa."

"I'll stop and pick up some Chinese take-out on the way home," Sheila said, "I already told work I'm leaving early tonight for a family emergency."

"Did they buy it?"

She chuckled, "Watch already had to take Ward home because he was so upset, so I think I'm good."

"Hey, do we still have those costumes from Truckules' Halloween party back in 2003?" Monarch asked.

"Oh yeah," Sheila replied, "They're in my closet."

"Excellent," Monarch said, "Don't forget the beer."

"See you soon, sweetness."

"Gary? Sweetie?"

The deep voice and soft fingers stroking his brow roused 21 from a sound sleep, and he opened his eyes to find Mrs. Monarch's beautiful face smiling down at him.

"Ma'am?" he said quickly, sitting up, "Sorry, do you need me for someth... uhh."

His eyes moved down her body and his voice trailed off. She was dressed in a long, white flowing robe with a hood, and a chunky, silver belt accented her tiny waist.

"Is he awake?" Monarch asked, stepping into the room.

"Oh... my god," 21 said, a smile spreading across his face.

Monarch was dressed as Han Solo, complete with plastic blaster.

"We've got Chinese downstairs," Sheila said, ruffling his hair, "Why don't you get into your Obi Wan robes and come down and join us?"

She moved to stand beside her husband, and Monarch wrapped his arm around her.

"What do you think? the red-haired man asked, indicating his costume.

"I... I don't have the words," 21 said, grinning ear to ear, "You guys never fail to amaze me with your awesomeness."

They laughed, both drawing their blasters and striking a pose.

"I am totally taking pics of you later," 21 warned, getting to his feet and moving to his closet, "And I am totally posting them to Instagram."

"Yeah yeah, whatever, my spring rolls are getting cold!" Monarch called, heading out the door and down the hall.

"And after dinner it's MOVIE TIME!"

About seven hours later, the floor of the living room was littered with empty beer bottles, and the coffee table was covered with empty Chinese take-out containers.

21 sat in the center of the couch, with Monarch passed out on his left side and Mrs. Monarch on his right, an arm around each of them. He was deep in thought, slightly buzzed, and giddy after the wonderful evening he'd spent with his Monarchs.

They'd started the marathon with A New Hope, of course. The three of them all raised a toast to Carrie when Leia first appeared on the screen. They all enjoyed the movie together, relating their childhood memories of seeing the film, and sharing cute stories.

Everyone laughed at all the right moments, even the blooper when the Stormtrooper slammed his head into the door.

When Han flew in and saved Luke during the Battle of Yavin, they all jumped up and cheered. It was like seeing the movie for the first time again, and 21 couldn't remember when he'd been so happy.

When the Death Star blew up, Monarch pumped a fist in the air, shouting.

"HA! SUCK IT, TARKIN!"

Which nearly made 21 pee on himself. After the closing credits, Mrs. Monarch switched out the disc and popped in The Empire Strikes Back.

During the opening crawl of Empire, Monarch had decided, perhaps unwisely, to start a drinking game. The solitary rule was that every time the character you were dressed as appeared onscreen, you had to drink.

"Waaaait, a minute," Monarch said during the AT-AT walker battle, looking at 21.

"You just realized that I'm dressed as Obi Wan," the henchman said with a grin, "And that he hardly appears in this film, OR Jedi, at all?"

"Yeahhhhh," the red-haired man whined.

"Ooh, Han onscreen!" Mrs. Monarch said, pointing, "You drink, honey!"

Monarch made a face and took a pull from his beer. Gary just grinned and folded his arms behind his head.

"You two," he said, chuckling, "Are going to be fucking WASTED."

"Leia onscreen!" Monarch yelped, pointing.

Mrs. Monarch took a swallow of her beer, winking at 21.

Which brought them to the current situation of both Mr. and Mrs. Monarch sound asleep, snuggled into the crooks of 21's big arms.

The burly henchman watched the credits roll for Return of The Jedi, then pointed the remote and clicked off the television. He tossed it onto the table amidst the empty white food boxes from the Chinese place, then put his arm around Monarch again, hugging his boss against him.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss against the top of the red-haired man's head, knowing that Monarch would never allow such a thing if he was awake. He did the same with Mrs. Monarch, nuzzling her shiny, black hair and enjoying the aroma of her shampoo.

As he looked from one of his sleeping friends to the other, his heart was filled with so much love that it brought tears to his eyes. These people weren't just his employers, they were his family, and he loved them both as deeply as a human could love another person.

It was at times like this that he realized how very lucky he was. Most people were lucky to find a single soul mate. He had two.

His sorrow over Carrie had abated considerably, eased by the movie marathon. A celebration of her life with his friends was just what was needed. They had taken such good care of him in his time of need, and now it was time for him to return the favor.

Carefully disentangling himself from the cuddle puddle, he slipped his hands under Mrs. Monarch's sleeping figure and gently lifted her into his arms. As he stood, she wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled against him, but didn't awaken.

He turned and moved silently out of the room to the stairs, and started up. He brushed his cheek across the top of her head as he carried her to the master bedroom. She felt so tiny in his big arms, she seemed to weigh almost nothing.

Moving to the big bed, he eased her down on the left side, which he knew was 'her' side. She rolled onto her side and snuggled into the pillow, and he gently covered her with a quilt. After leaning down and softly kissing her cheek, he moved out of the room and back down the stairs.

In their absence, Monarch had lain down on the couch, his long, lanky body stretching from one end the other, one black-booted foot hanging off the front, mouth wide open, snoring.

21 chuckled fondly, shaking his head. He decided to let the older man stay where he was for a few minutes as he set to work cleaning up the beer bottles and food containers.

When he'd finished taking the last of the bottles to the recycling bin, he returned to find Monarch awake, but significatly intoxicated. The red-haired man looked up at him through squinted eyes, and gave him a broad smile.

"Therrrrrre he is," he slurred, getting unsteadily to his feet. He started toward 21 and caught his foot on the leg of the coffee table.

"Whoops, careful!" 21 yelped, leaping forward to catch him before he fell.

"Thanks, buddy," Monarch said, patting his face and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "You're such a great guy, Wenny-Ton. Tenny-Done. GARY."

The burly bodyguard laughed, holding tight to his slurring superior.

"C'mon boss," he said, trying to steer Monarch toward the stairs, "Let's get you to bed."

"Thounds like a GREAT idea," the older man concurred, obediently allowing himself to be guided along.

They made it up to the first landing before Monarch's unsteady legs finally frayed 21's last nerve, and he simply scooped the older man up in his arms.

"Hang on, dude," he said, taking a deep breath and starting up the stairs.

Monarch looped his arms around his neck and grinned drunkenly at him.

"What are you grinning at?" 21 asked, chuckling.

"I couldn't handle the stairs SOLO," Monarch giggled, "Get it? I'm Han Solo."

"Hilarious," the burly henchman laughed, shaking his head. He reached the top of the stairs, but instead of setting his boss down, he simply carried him down the hall to the bedroom.

"Oh there's my wife!" Monarch said, pointing, "I couldn't find her."

He belched loudly, and looked around in confusion, as if trying to figure out where the funny sound had come from.

"Dude, shush!" 21 said, trying to keep his own laughter quiet, "Don't wake her up!"

He moved to the right side of the bed and eased Monarch down, there. Mrs. Monarch had commandeered the quilt, so 21 took off his voluminous Jedi robe and draped it over Monarch, tugging it up to the older man's shoulders.

Monarch snuggled down into the bed and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

Gary waited for a moment, then leaned down and kissed the red-haired man's temple, tousling his hair. He started to move away from the bed, when Monarch's hand stretched from under the covers and grabbed the hem of his tunic.

"Where you goin'?" the older man inquired.

"To bed?" 21 replied.

"Heat's broke in your room," Monarch said, "S'too cold up there."

He reached over and patted the open space between himself and his wife.

"Y'can sleep here if y'want," he murmured sleepily, before settling back down and letting out a snore.

The henchman just stood there for a moment. It was true, the radiator in his room WAS busted. He'd been relying on piles of blankets to endure the cold nights. But it was still uncomfortable up there in the turret.

Well, he'd been invited to stay.

With a shrug, he carefully climbed over Monarch, and laid down in the center of the big bed. No sooner had he done so, when both Monarch and Mrs. Monarch rolled over and cuddled up to him.

Surrounded by love, Gary smiled and closed his eyes, and dreamed of a princess, a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

THE END

In loving memory of Carrie Fisher


End file.
